


razorback

by freezingsheep



Series: razorback [1]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Body Horror, Dissociation, F/F, Panic Attacks, and also lesbians, did someone say Monsters?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 11:09:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18871987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezingsheep/pseuds/freezingsheep
Summary: Brooke hums as if deep in thought, and slowly pulls away, reaching into her pocket to fish out her phone. “Here,” she says simply, “I’ll give you my number.” When Vanessa remains quiet, Brooke tilts her chin up so she’s staring straight into Vanessa’s confused, conflicted soul. “You can talk to me, if you want.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> loosely based off razorback by rachel mallin,, v self indulgent,, brownie points if you spot the stiefvater reference

They meet on a Saturday night when the moon is dark. 

Vanessa’s head is spinning with nicotine and tequila, and she’s stepped away from the party for a breath of the night air. Muffled music drones behind her, fading in and out as Vanessa lights a second cigarette, quickly accompanied by drunken singing.

It had taken a great amount of convincing from A’keria for Vanessa to show. More specifically, a twenty minute call on facetime, and many, many reminders that Vanessa had missed the last three parties she’d been invited to. Once A’keria started pouting, and Vanessa realized the date actually matched up with her schedule, she relented.

As if on cue of thought alone, A’keria stumbles out through the back door of the house, visibly hammered; dragging a much taller, much more sober blonde behind her. She lights up when she sees Vanessa, dropping the stranger’s hand and latching onto her instead.

“Vanjie, baby, are you good?” she drawls. Her breath smells like rum but Vanessa laughs, wrapping an arm around the girl’s waist to straighten her out. 

“I’m fine. What’s wrong with you?” she sighs. She knows A’keria. She knows A’keria when she’s  _ drunk. _

“I’ve got something to show you.” 

She reaches blindly behind her until she grabs hold of the unknown girl’s shirt, tugging her forward so she stands beneath the porch light with them.

It’s then that Vanessa really looks at her. Jaw cut from marble. Milky pale skin. Deep, ocean blue eyes that ripple green as Vanessa continues to stare. Her lips are colored a soft, baby pink, and the white of her daisy patterned skirt glows with the stars. 

“This is Brooke,” supplies A’keria, slurring her words. “She thinks you’re hot.”

Brooke’s face flushes delicious cherry red, and Vanessa licks her lips. A’keria looks between them and grins sloppily. She spins on her heel, surprising both Vanessa and Brooke by managing to stay upright. She giggles, fumbling with the door handle.

“Get some, baby,” she calls to Vanessa before unceremoniously tripping over the doorstep. She slams the door behind her. 

Vanessa dissolves into barking, uproarious laughter before she can stop herself, dropping ash onto her boots as she wheezes. Brooke chuckles too, nerves audible, and takes a larger than average sip of her Palm Bay. 

Vanessa takes a drag. “So,” she hums on the exhale, “come lookin’ for a piece of the mysterious Vanjie charm?” She interrupts her own flirting with a coughing fit, hacking up half a lung before turning back to Brooke as if nothing happened. 

The girl laughs in earnest, this time, tilting her head back and letting her gorgeous voice ring into the night. “Vanjie charm?” she repeats, flushed and smiling and beautiful. “Is that what they call it?” 

Vanessa turns away, taking another long drag and praying that her blush doesn’t show. “That’s what A’keria seems to think,” she flicks the now finished cigarette away, attention fully on Brooke. “Sorry about her, also. One too many shots and she acts like she’s livin’ a sitcom.” 

Brooke looks away before smiling. “I’ve noticed. She was looking for you. She seemed really worried, so I offered to help her find you.” 

Vanessa’s eyebrows raise, but her voice has the same garvely, questioning tone as always. “Oh,” disappointment pangs in her chest, “yeah, she does that. I left without tellin’ her one time and now she gets all freaked if she can’t find me.” She rubs the back of her neck, suddenly sheepish. She doesn’t mean to meet Brooke’s eyes again, but doesn’t do anything about it when she finds herself staring into them. Brooke seems to be searching her, inviting her into the sea, and Vanessa falls in without a fight.

“I did tell her you were hot, though.” 

The water is cool against her skin, and in that moment Vanessa wants nothing more than to swim to the very depths, to let her breath go. Her voice somehow sounds less shocked than she feels, and she attributes it to the shots A’keria had her do earlier in the evening. “So you  _ are _ here for the Vanjie charm?”

“I suppose I am.” Brooke’s smile is sweet candy and Vanessa wants a taste, but the music inside booms and the sudden drunken chorus of Cascada’s ‘Everytime We Touch,’ causes Brooke to laugh so hard she snorts. Vanessa immediately cackles in response, overjoyed at the sound, and they each take a step closer as they laugh together. 

She takes a glance at the moon. Something hopeful warms her chest, and she can tell it isn’t the alcohol. She drifts towards the door, grinning, and holds her hand out to the blonde. 

“May I offer you a dance, Brooke?” She tries the name, kisses it with  _ “what if,” _ and sends it off. Brooke’s hand is soft against her own, and she leads the girl inside with another gruff chuckle. She doesn’t miss the excited glint in Brooke’s eyes.

  
  


A’keria uses Brooke as bribery, after the party. 

Vanessa loves her friends, she really does. She doesn’t avoid them because wants to. It’s just that the weather is getting cold, and everything gets… harder when the weather is cold. 

They’re a week into November now, and Vanessa knows she’ll have to leave again soon. A’keria knows, too, by the sound of it. They’ve been friends for years now, and no matter how many times Vanessa vanishes with the first snowfall, A’keria never seems to get used to it. When temperature starts to drop, she starts inviting Vanessa anywhere and everywhere. The mall, the grocery store, one of their friends’ places. It’s a gamble whether or not Vanessa will accept, but it’s their yearly game. 

And this year, A’keria has an advantage.  _ “Come hang out at Silky’s, Brooke will be there,” _ or  _ “We’re going to a movie. Come with. Brooke will be there.” _ As ashamed as she is to admit it, Vanessa falls for it every time.The promise of seeing Brooke again before Winter sets in is enough to get her to drag her aching body out of bed, and to to whatever bustling place A’keria summons her to. They always end up sitting together, wherever they are, just talking and drinking each other in until someone breaks them apart with a question or comment.

Today, they’re meeting at a cafe. Her hair is a fluffy, tangled mess, and the scent of everyone else’s breakfast sandwiches is sending Vanessa’s sleep addled brain into a slight frenzy. A’keria waves her over to a table unfortunately bathed in sunshine. Vanessa spots Nina, Silky, and of course, Brooke, sitting with her. They’re all nursing various sugary lattes, save for Brooke who’s drinking some sort of cold brew that looks awfully dark. She smirks, even though A’keria is looking. 

“She showed up,” Silky exclaims, drawing a laugh from Nina. She looks to A’keria, and reaches out to grab Brooke’s hand. “You were right, this girl is magic. What’s your secret?”

“Leave her alone, Silk,” Vanessa huffs, shoving the girl’s shoulder and taking the seat beside her. “I came ‘cause I had some free time.” Brooke is watching her and she can tell, but it’s sort of exciting.

Nina wipes some whipped cream from her face before interjecting. “You? Free time? In November?”

Silky laughs her boisterous laugh and says, “Right?”

“Shut up,” Vanessa whines, “I don’t air your dirty laundry in public, why are you fucken’ with me?” 

Brooke giggles at the exchange and Vanessa melts a little. 

“Because we love you, dear, “ smiles Nina from across the table, and Vanessa grumbles her gratitude for the girl’s motherly tone. 

“That, and I want to see you this Christmas.” A’keria’s eyes are suddenly serious and it shakes a nerve somewhere deep in Vanessa’s mind. “You never even text.”

Her fingers twitch against the table, and she ignores the way Brooke’s expression turns to one of surprise and cursed, cursed curiosity. Vanessa  _ hates _ curiosity.

“Not now, A’keria,” her voice is close to a growl, and it startles everyone at the table. Heat rushes beneath her skin. She stews in regret as the silence stretches.

Silky recovers first. “She’s right, though.”

She sinks her canines into her lower lip and struggles not to look at Brooke’s face. “Shut up, Silky.”

“You’re around ‘til Halloween and then, poof, you’re gone.”

Concerned blue fills Vanessa’s tunnel vision. She struggles to breathe in, something carnal fogging her senses. “Shut up,” she whispers, weak.

“And no one hears a word out of you until March,” A’keria joins in, apparently keen on probing for an answer. “It’s ridiculous.”

She’s a word away from panic, reaching for her cigarettes, fearful instinct overtaking her. Everyone’s looking at her, eyes cold and colors mixing into a muddled mess. Another voice, though gentle, is enough to make her snap.

“Where do you go?”

Her voice bursts from her throat in a snarl, and it resembles words in only the vaguest sense. She stands quickly, everyone flinching back from her, and hurries to the door. She didn’t even get to buy a coffee.

She makes it three steps from the entrance when a hand touches her shoulder. She whirls around, unlit cigarette hanging from her mouth, body buzzing. Brooke looks back at her, worry written plain on her face. She’s only in a light sweater and leggings, and the sight brings Vanessa crashing back to earth. Before she can comment, Brooke looks at her with those horrible, lovely eyes of her.

“Please” she breathes, biting back a shiver. “Please don’t go.” She chances another touch, brushing some of Vanessa’s hair from her face. “I’m sorry for asking.”

Vanessa blinks up at her, bones aching with chill, and murmurs, “I’m sorry. I- I...” The words escape her. Her brain is running on overdrive, and she’s split between tucking herself into Brooke’s embrace or running as fast as she can.

The decision is made for her. Brooke pulls her close and the scent of her vanilla perfume is intoxicating. Almost against her own will, Vanessa relaxes.

“Are you really gonna leave?” Brooke asks, her voice is soft, yet heavy with the words, and there’s a sadness to them that Vanessa desperately wants to ignore.

She wants to lie and say maybe. She wants to be  _ stupid _ and say no. Instead, she pulls the cigarette from her lips and tells the truth. “Yeah,” she rasps. 

Brooke hums as if deep in thought, and slowly pulls away, reaching into her pocket to fish out her phone. “Here,” she says simply, “I’ll give you my number.” When Vanessa remains quiet, Brooke tilts her chin up so she’s staring straight into Vanessa’s confused, conflicted soul. “You can talk to me, if you want.”

Vanessa wishes that talking were enough.

  
  


They call each other every night.

With each ticking second, pain seeps into Vanessa’s bones like an illness, and she lays in aching, lazy misery for days; subsisting off only microwave meals and Brooke’s voice. Her phone bill is going to be fucked, but she doesn’t really care. She’s going to disappear soon, anyhow. None of it is going to matter until the spring, and the pain makes that feel ages away.

A’keria calls, too, but Vanessa can’t bring herself to go out and see her. Or Nina. Or even Brooke. She just waits in gruelling, visceral anticipation. She waits for the snow to start, for her anxieties to howl away with the blizzarding winds, for her teeth to grow so sharp that nothing can touch her. Her bones shift with yearning. She smokes the rest of her cigarettes within a few hours.  

And, every night as the moon grows, they whisper to each other. Brooke talks about her day, what would be mundane details capturing Vanessa’s attention and taking her mind away from her ails. Through these talks, Vanessa learns a lot about Brooke. For example, she likes dogs. Her family used to own a husky when she was a child, and when Vanessa finds this out, she makes Brooke tell her stories about the dog until she falls asleep.

Brooke likes coffee, too. Vanessa promises to take her out to the cafe, when she gets back. Just the two of them.

“So it’s a date?” Brooke sighs over the phone, her voice a dream, and Vanessa is suddenly very thankful that they aren’t video chatting. 

Her face is flushed deep red but she answers, “Hell yeah,” with a conviction that makes them both laugh. She inhales, content, and shatters when Brooke speaks again.

“Where do you go, Vanessa?”

It’s the second time she’s asked, and Vanessa wants so badly to be honest with her. She wants to look her in the eyes and tell her everything. But ‘everything,’ is too ugly, too grotesque to show anyone. The secret burns the tip of her tongue and she whimpers like some pitiful little mutt. “Nowhere.” 

“Then come here, love. I’ll text you my address.”

Something inside her breaks. Fat, shameful tears roll down her cheeks, and her spine aches with the despair. “I can’t,” she sobs, barely able to hold the phone. “I can’t.”

Brooke shushes her, tells her to breathe. “It’s snowing,” she murmurs, “look outside, baby.”

Vanessa’s heart drops. 

“ _ No, no, no, _ ” she thinks, maybe out loud, and drops the phone.

She rushes towards the window, looking fearfully towards the night sky. It can’t already be the first snowfall. She thought she had a few more days. The full moon taunts her from above, calling her name.

Though that may just be Brooke. Her frantic voice is echoing quietly throughout the room, but Vanessa can barely register her own breathing over the sirens wailing in her head. Her brain dissolves into tiny white flakes and flurries away from her, leaving only biting cold and instinct.

She hangs up the call, looks at her messages, and runs.

  
  


She’s soaked with snow and sick with moonlight when she reaches Brooke’s door. She breathes in jagged puffs, an animal in her anxiety. Her body buzzes like pitch-broken glass, and she only knocks once before Brooke swings the door open, glowing bright safety before her bleary eyes. 

“Vanessa,” Brooke calls her name in a sweet, scared murmur. Syrup drips thick down Vanessa’s ears, and she sways under the weight, but it instantly makes her feel the smallest bit better than when she’d been walking over here. 

She takes a breath to speak, but every word she tries to start fizzles on her tongue, and as her voice gravels into nothing it takes her mind along with it. Then, Brooke’s fingertips are warm against her cheek, and she’s nothing but sticky, liquid sugar in the girl’s hand. 

“Do you want to come inside,” Brooke whispers again. It’s not a question. She gently pulls Vanessa in, and the motion seems to startle her back to reality. Her breathing quickens, and the animal instinct creeps along her spine through to her twitching fingers.

Brooke closes the door, and finality of the sound makes Vanessa  _ rabid _ . Panic rushes hot in her veins, bursting and bubbling beneath her skin, and she’s dying. She’s boiling herself alive, and her brain simmers with the knowledge like spice. Everything rolls and becomes molten. A scalding, soupy mush, and she’s dying. She’s raw and scorched and steaming and-

“Look at me.”

A drop of sweetness. Vanessa opens her eyes.

Brooke looks terrified, but her voice is smooth and steady. “That’s good. Just…” she pauses, swallows, exhales. “Just focus on me and breathe, okay, baby?”

The petname brings Vanessa a final moment of calm, but now that she’s been in the moon and snow, nothing can stop her.

A wet, guttural sort of cracking sound begins to emanate from her skull. She grabs fistfuls of her hair, the bones of her fingers snapping as her grip grows tighter and tighter. Brooke’s syrupy tone has been replaced with undeniable fear, but her words are completely lost on Vanessa as she writhes.

She splutters out apology after apology, deaf to anything Brooke is trying to tell her, and spits blood as her jaw fucking  _ breaks _ . Brooke screams at the sound, backing away when blood oozes from between Vanessa’s fingers. She screams, too. Her body is breaking itself apart, and blood caked canine ears soon emerge from the gashes in her scalp. Her teeth grow long. Her voice fades into an animal whine. Her claws tear bloody wounds as she drags them down her face, and Brooke can’t say a word. 

She covers her ears when Vanessa’s spine begins to twist.

She closes her eyes when Vanessa’s face grimaces itself into a gored mess.

She cries when she feels the ground beneath her shake with Vanessa’s tremors.

 

Then, there is stillness. 


	2. Chapter 2

The creature laying in front of Brooke is decidedly not Vanessa, and yet when she looks it in the eyes, she remembers stopping the girl outside the cafe. 

She remembers the feral, panicked look in Vanessa’s eyes. It’s same thing she’s seeing right now but it makes no sense, nothing makes any sense. And, there’s blood on the doormat. Distantly, she thinks she’s going to need a new one.

The dog whines, and Brooke takes a shuddering breath as she tries to face the reality of the situation. Dog isn’t quite accurate, now that she really looks. It’s a handsome beast, lean and sleek and covered in thick, lustrous black fur. The midnight grays around the snout, and it- she- the  _ wolf _ has the same golden brown eyes that Brooke has been crying for. 

“Christ,” she chokes on her own voice, and when the wolf rises it takes every last drop of her willpower not to back away in fear.

The wolf whines again, high pitched and piercing, and presses itself against the door. Brooke doesn’t know she’s crying until the tears drip onto her legs. She just watched Vanessa die. She just watched Vanessa  _ die, _ and now her corpse has risen as some creature of the night, like her life has turned into one of those cheesy horror movies she used to watch as a teenager.  

A laugh drips from her throat before she can stop it. The wolf whimpers, nosing the door knob. Brooke blinks out of her daze and tries not to think about how tall it is. 

“I’m sorry,” she sighs into the quiet. She looks into its wild yellow eyes, and understands. “You have to leave.”

It breaks her and it breaks Vanessa.

The wolf cries low and long. Brooke rises on her shaking legs, opens the door, and lets Vanessa run off into the snowy void. The door seems to close on its own. Brooke replays every moment of the past few weeks in her head.

_ “I left without tellin’ her once.” _

She feels sick to her stomach.

_ “And then, poof, you’re gone.” _

She stumbles blindly to her room, phone in hand.

_ “You never even text.” _

When A’keria picks up, she sounds like she’d just been asleep. “What’s the matter, girl?” she mumbles, sighing heavily. 

Brooke buries her face in her hands, and sobs. “She’s gone.”

 

 

She spends a lot of time with A’keria, as the Winter marches on. They wait like attention starved puppies for Vanessa to come wandering back, and Brooke is hollow with the irony. A’keria watches holiday cartoons while mindlessly wrapping presents, and Brooke consumes every research paper regarding wolves that she can get her hands on.

They don’t really talk about it. Not after A’keria cries when Brooke admits Vanessa came to see  _ her _ . Even if she could think of a way to explain it all, she doubts A’keria would believe her. So she holds it all in.

She spends Christmas Eve alone, and sets an empty plate on the other side of the table just to make herself feel better. Instead of sleeping, she listens to the night, hoping in vain. 

At New Years, she gets more drunk than she’s ever been, and tries her first cigarette. Nina holds her hair back when she throws up, and Brooke says, “I love you, Vanessa,” without any shame as she’s lead down the hall towards a bed.

When January rolls into February, she’s drenched in the scent of tobacco. It’s the only time in her life she pays any attention to groundhog’s day, flicking through the various news feeds and livestreams, anxious for the verdict. 

On Valentine’s day, she and A’keria are walking home from a trip to the library, and off in the treeline, Brooke sees her.

She takes off  _ running _ even though A’keria is in the middle of a sentence. Even though she knows she’ll never catch up. Her bag full of books slams against her back, and she’s nearly tripping over herself, and none of it matters. A’keria calls after her, and it doesn’t matter. Her hat whips away into the wind, and it doesn’t matter. The tree branches cut her cheeks, and it doesn’t matter. She continues her chase, hyper focused, kicking up leaves and snow behind her. 

It isn’t long before the uneven forest floor sends her crashing to the ground, but she catches a glimpse of a long black tail disappearing behind the pines. 

Her phone blares in her pocket, and she vaguely registers A’keria calling her name in the distance. She doesn’t get up. She just sits, and lets the snow gather on her guilty shoulders. Movements languid, she lights a cigarette, and wonders if the scent of smoke will lure Vanessa back.

 

When the snow starts to melt, Brooke is starting to think she might die. Her body swims through the days on autopilot. Her mind sinks somewhere cold and blue. She’s empty yet full of longing, and whenever anyone asks, “I’m alright,” slips all too easily from her lips.

A’keria slings an arm around her shoulder, one morning, when they’re all out for coffee. “I know you’re worried,” she says, “but she’ll be back soon. She’ll be okay. She always is.” 

Brooke isn’t sure whether A’keria is trying to convince her, or herself. Silky stands without a word, and goes to order coffee. Nina smiles, albeit shakily, and seconds the sentiment. She appreciates the thought, but she can’t believe it.

She can’t stop thinking about that night. She can’t get it out of her head. They can laugh like things are normal, and Brooke will be daydreaming about dribbling blood. They can talk like things are normal, and Brooke will be hearing the god awful  _ screaming _ . 

She drifts in the blue, teetering over a drop into the deep dark, where no creature resides. Where there is no golden sunlight to warm her. Where there is no Vanessa. 

She starts taking a longer route home from work. It’s been raining for a few days now, and she revels in the rising temperature. She sings to the stars and ignores her phone as it buzzes in her bag, something she’s done quite often lately. She’s soaked down to her marrow, stepping in every puddle she sees, hoping one will open up to swallow her whole.

The first thing she notices when she opens the door, is the absence of her doormat. She never did replace it afterwards, she couldn’t bring herself to touch it. After kicking off her shoes, she shuffles into the living room. Her bag hits the floor, and stops her heart.

Vanessa stares back at her, half hidden in one of A’keria’s hoodies. “Brooke,” she whispers, throat rusty and raw, eyes unreadable. “You- You left your door unlocked.”

“You died,” Brooke answers back, sounding far away. She sways, body an unsteady sea, waves threatening to crash against the shore at any moment. “Y-You- I…”

Vanessa dashes to her side, leaping over the back of the couch like it’s nothing. She’s spry, glowing, and  _ human _ , without a single scratch on her body. Vanessa touches her face, soft, but firm with purpose. “Hey, hey, relax sweetheart. I’m sorry.” The honey in her voice is pure heaven. Weight lifts from Brooke’s rain laden shoulders.

She grabs the girl’s hand, holding it against her cheek, head spinning. Vanessa’s fingers are warm against hers, sweet sunlight tempting her up from the depths.

“Stay with me, babe,” Vanessa calls to her, echoing through the blue. Brooke swims, reaching, crying, clinging to every word like it were driftwood. “I’m right here,” Vanessa shushes, “I’m right here.”

Somehow, that makes it worse.

Her legs crumble beneath her, but Vanessa keeps her steady, slowly lowering them both to the floor, gentle; as if Brooke might break.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs again, and Brooke realizes that she’s already fallen apart. “A’keria told me you weren’t doing so hot.”

Part of her is upset that Vanessa went to A’keria first, but she knows it’s only fair. “I missed you,” she blubbers, squeezing Vanessa’s hand. Her voice seems to tumble from her lips without a thought spared for the words. “You were gone, and I- I missed you so much.” She covers her face with her still wet sleeves, shivering, filled with sudden shame. “You died,” she repeats, and wonders if Vanessa will still be there when she opens her eyes. “I watched you.”

Her hands are softly pried away from her face, and when she looks, all Brooke sees is wonderful, golden brown. Vanessa threads their fingers together, voice calmer than Brooke has ever heard it. “I’m okay,” she presses her lips to Brooke’s knuckles, “I’m here in the flash. The flesh. Whichever.” 

Brooke lets out a watery laugh, surprising herself.

“There you go,” Vanessa grins, and Brooke has never really noticed how pointed her canines are. “Can’t make you laugh if I’m dead, can I?”

“No,” she whimpers before her mind can run away with the thought. Vanessa kisses her forehead, and she breaks surface, gasping down oxygen; staring right into the sun. Something inside her sings. 

Vanessa smiles at her again, eyes welling. “There’s my girl,” she hums, and Brooke melts. Vanessa helps her up, an anchoring rock amidst the still unsettled waters. “C’mon,” she rasps, tugging Brooke down the hall in search of her room. “Let’s get you into something dry.” 

Brooke merely follows, too drained to question it, too lovesick to mind. All she cares about is the warm hand laced with hers. She can feel months of missed affection in the simple touch, and it slows her whirlwind brain to a crawl. 

Impossibly soft, Vanessa pulls Brooke’s soaked sweater over her head. Under normal circumstances, she would fret over showing her body, but even the slightest brushes of Vanessa’s skin against hers are like a drug. She squirms her way into a clean shirt, whining when Vanessa turns away to look for pajamas. Her eyes flutter shut when the girl’s hand strokes through the tangled blonde mess she’s been calling her hair. Sensation is slowly returning to her, and she relaxes under the touch. 

Vanessa chuckles, though it’s not a happy sound. She’s only been at Brooke’s place the one time, but it had been near spotless. Now, however, empty ramen cups litter the kitchen counter, and her room is a disaster scene of clothes and books. 

“Look what I did to you,” she breathes as Brooke absentmindedly pulls on a pair of shorts, too foggy and distracted to hear it. Once she’s dressed, Vanessa lays her down, taking a seat next to her and smoothing the hair out of her face. 

Brooke blinks up at her sleepily. “I love you,” she yawns, grasping the end of Vanessa’s sweater, weak and lazy.

A smile. Her voice cracks. “I love you, too. Go to sleep, sweetheart.” 

  
  


Morning brings a headache, and fluffy, half-forgotten dreams. She’s dreamt about Vanessa more than once, so it doesn’t surprise her. She’s so caught up in her disappointment, in fact, that she doesn’t notice the missing mountain of clothes that should be next to her bedroom door. 

She can hear the TV playing in the living room as she wanders through the hallway, figuring she must have left it on before going to bed the night before. Sighing at herself, she shuffles to go turn it off. 

She’s passing the couch when the door opens, and in steps Vanessa, who lights up when she sees Brooke. “You’re awake,” she notes with a raise of her eyebrows, and whatever was going to come next gets buried in Brooke’s embrace.

“You owe me coffee.” She speaks hurriedly, rushing as if she only has a few more minutes with Vanessa before she disappears again. “Coffee, and a date, and- and-” 

“Whoa, babe, slow down,” Vanessa mumbles, her familiar gravelling tone muffled in Brooke’s chest, but soothing nonetheless. “You’re forgetting to breathe.”

“Right,” she inhales, “sorry.” Her body screams for nicotine and she rushes over to her bag, pulling out a half full pack, turning to face Vanessa without looking at her. “Do you mind if-”

“Bitch, when did you start smoking?” Vanessa interrupts, incredulous. She gets this look in her eye that’s one part attractive, two parts worrying. 

Brooke gives a half smile, slipping the pack into her pocket. “A’keria didn’t tell you about New Years?” she asks, voice small. Guilty. She was hoping she wouldn’t have to recount that herself. She barely remembers it as is.

Vanessa studies her for a long moment. Her expression calms into one of pain, and she sighs heavily. “Let’s go have a smoke, then. I need to talk to you.”

Fear pulls Brooke’s heart down to her stomach. 

They sit together, shoulder to shoulder on her front step, cigarettes in hand. The sun blares above them; warm, bright, and different. Vanessa looks beautiful in the light, and Brooke watches her face more than her smoke when she starts to blow faded rings. 

“What did you want to talk about, love?” Brooke tries not to let her anxiety take over her voice, taking a long drag to distract herself.

“Us,” Vanessa shrugs, eyes fixed on the concrete. “You.” She snuffs out her cigarette butt, and picks out another. Her words are stilted and spaced, a sign of nervousness that Brooke knows well. 

“Us?” she echoes. 

‘Us,’ is a very strange and unofficial situation. Brooke loves Vanessa, she knows that much at this point. And Vanessa reciprocates, to some extent at least. She’s said as much, shown as much, but right now the tone of her voice is making the phrase, “ _ second thoughts,” _ spin around Brooke’s head at a dizzying speed.

“I’m no good for you,” Vanessa laughs, a bitter sound. “I didn’t even need to be physically present to fuck you up.” There’s a sharp edge in her voice, but somehow Brooke knows it’s not directed at her. Yet.

She swallows thickly, unsure of what to say or think. Vanessa continues.

“You shouldn’t be with me. I’m dangerous,” she growls on an exhale, “and I’ll always have to leave.”  Her voice is strained, and she refuses to meet Brooke’s gaze, lips twitching. 

Brooke thinks. “Is that why you call it mysterious,” she asks, “The Vanjie charm?” It doesn’t seem as humorous anymore.

Still, Vanessa scoffs. She finally looks at Brooke, voice breaking. “You weren’t supposed to solve it.” 

She’s crying now, and it fills Brooke with a twisted sort of confidence. “But I did,” she touches Vanessa’s face, stroking her thumb across the girl’s cheek. “I know what you are.” 

Vanessa chokes like she’s heard it before, hurt written plainly on her face, a ticking counter hooked to a bomb. “What?” she whimpers, cigarette long forgotten. “What am I? A monster? You can say it.” 

The edge presses against Brooke’s throat, and her mind swims with whispered jokes, gentle touches. Breaking bones. Sharp teeth.

She had led, when they danced that first night. Vanessa’s laughter was hidden under the pounding music, but Brooke could feel it as they pressed together.

She had made a point to sit next to Vanessa, whenever they all went out together. Sometimes, she even had the courage to put a hand on the girl’s leg as they talked, relishing even the momentary touches.

She had stayed up all night crying, when Vanessa left. She stayed up late for days on end, reading, watching documentaries, trying to fill a void. She became intimately familiar with wolves, aching for any sort of idea as to what she could do. 

She had always loved those cheesy horror movies.

“You’re wonderful,” Brooke whispers, and no amount of blood can change it. She takes Vanessa’s face in both hands. “Strange, and wonderful, and I love you.”

Vanessa tries to bite back a sob, shaking her head. She looks small and scared, a frightened animal lost in the vast wild, claustrophobic despite the open space.

“I love you,” Brooke says again, even softer, if it’s possible. She knows she’s crying now, too, and  _ “I missed you,” _ once again swells tight in her chest. Vanessa stares, lip quivering as she touches Brooke’s wrists.

“You’re an idiot,” she murmurs, and a small smile lights her face. “I love you, too.”

 

They kiss under the morning sun, smiling.


End file.
